Serendipity
by technotemplar
Summary: In a galaxy filled with darkness and unremitting war, a moment of true serendipity occurs above the forge-moon Excelsis III.


If you were to ask the millions of humans toiling away across the dying Imperium, they would tell you the cold hard galaxy of the 41st millennium lacked serendipity. The near-extinct Eldar, for all their runecraft and farsight, would likely agree. Were it possible to ask a Tyranid the same question, they would likely also assent before eating you. However, on the far reaches of an obscure system just outside of Imperial space a moment of supreme galactic irony came to pass one fateful day. The _Spatha_, a Lunar-class cruiser of immense age and prestige serving with the Outrider Project fleets of the Ordo Xenos, came home to die.

The odds of such an event occurring, cross referencing the uncountable number of Imperial ships in service to the God-Emperor to the equally uncountable number of foundries operated over the course of Terra's history, were slim to say the least. For _Spatha_, home was the small forge moon of Excelsis III, renowned for the craftsmanship of its vessels if not quantity of production. At least, the shipwrights of Excelsis III used to be renowned before the world fell to Ork marauders in the 38th millennium. The intervening 3000 years had not been kind to the forge moon. She still orbited her namesake azure gas giant much the same way: and industry of a sort still thrived across her foundry halls and factory floors, though few among the civilized races would use so generous a term.

Had _Spatha_ been returning home in the millennia before the Ork invasion she would have broken through warp space and been met with cries of dismay and sadness across the vox net as the more emotional ship masters bemoaned the irreparable damage carved across her vast body. The Outrider fleet had wandered into a cunning ambush laid in a dense nebulae cluster: the last real-space translation for the Imperials before the light of the Astronomicon would take them back to their home base. The Ork ships knifed from dense clouds of sensor-obscuring gases just as the human ships were feeding all power to their Geller fields to prepare for warp travel and quickly overwhelmed the Outriders. Many ships were boarded and in the traditional Death Skull custom anything that looked semi valuable or useful was hauled back to their lair. Describing what was left of the _Spatha _as "semi-useful" was a stretch.

_Spatha _was the first ship knocked out by the Orks. Targeted by the hulking monster of a battleship that served as the greenskin's flagship and several other capital vessels, her void shields evaporated virtually immediately. The massive caliber guns and absurdly overcharged lance weapons of the xenos craft ripped the _Spatha _open from prow to stern. The old vessel wasn't granted the dignity of a quick death like so many other vessels of the Outrider feet that day: her plasma reactor slowly bled out into the void as the cruiser drifted through the utter wrack of her parent fleet. All that was left of the once proud ship was a desiccated husk.

Yet the Death Skull overlord saw it fit to shackle the _Spatha _to his cyclopean flagship with immense lengths of adamantium chains and drag her, along with practically every other vessel of the Imperial fleet, back to Excelsis III. The Ork barely remembered what he had eaten for breakfast that morning and doubtlessly hadn't bothered to read the High Gothic records stored in the forge-palace-turned-Ork Fortress describing the loving hours spend crafting _Spatha_ and thus was unable to appreciate the irony of his order "Oi, set dis hunk o junk down wif da rest of 'em. Dis bit will look nice and shiny on da top har har har" (in a delicious fit of serendipity the warboss had in fact devoured the records of _Spatha _and her creation for breakfast that very morning).

And so it was that a cruiser of the Imperial navy returned home: her adamantium chains cut loose, sent hurtling by gravitic forces down to crash atop a graveyard of vessels claimed by the Orks who had claimed the forge-moon. Fire surged through the ship as atmospheric friction ignited her many open wounds. Parts of the vessel broke off sending debris soaring through the upper atmosphere of the small planetoid. The _Spatha_'s dead captain would have been pleased to know that some of these shards would crush a number of Orks milling around a ruined hab-complex. Doubtlessly he would have been less pleased to know just how insignificant the death of a even a thousand orks was to the host barbarically pointing and cheering at his falling, burning ship.

An impossibly loud crash of steel, a sickening whine of tearing metal, and one colossal dust cloud later and it was over. On board the Ork battleship _Gork's Toofth _Warboss Guglogga Panzeeater guffawed with uncontrollable laughter and slapped one of his crew across the back so hard that the Ork crashed to the deck unconscious. The boss was nonplussed. "HAR HAR HAR HAR! Did you see dat BOOM! Lookit me shiny pile NOW boyz! WE IZ DA BEST LOOTAZ DAT EVER DID LOOT!" Every greenskin within earshot of the boss laughed, the sound an utter riot of noise that would have nauseated even an Ogryn.

A crackle of vox feedback almost as discordant as the Ork laughter shot across the bridge. "'Ey boss yous back! I 'eard da crash all da way in me lab. Dat was a nice shiney you got, real nice." The warboss looked around the bridge completely bewildered at the source of the voice until it squaked again.

"You dere boss? Dis is High Chief Mekboss Mugga-" the disembodied voice was cut off for a moment as the boss whacked the barely-functioning vox unit with a hand the size of a thunder hammer. Static once again filled the bridge as the boss began to shout "OI! WHERE DID IT GO! GET IT BACK YOU SODS!" Another punch from the warboss re-established the connection.

"Boss! Ah I can hear ya breathing now boss," affirmed the Chief Mekboy of the warband his voice still awash with distortion. "Did you forget how to use da speaky box again?"

"Sod it Mekboy, 'ow many times do I haf ta tells ya, SAY WHO YOU IS BEFORE YOU SPEAK AT ME WIF DA SPEAKY BOX!" roared Guglogga, the sudden anger in his voice sending the smaller greenskins on the bridge running for cover.

"Very sorry boss! You'ze da best boss der iz!" replied the Mekboy, used to his larger cousins outburst.

"Yes, yes I iz," responded Guglogga, patting himself on the back. "Glad one of you gits appreciates it. Now, whaddid you want?"

"Oh just ta see if I can borrow sum of da trukz and wagonz ta go scavenge the new lootz on da loot pile. I fink I can make us some real dakka and zap zap and KABOOM from whatcha brought back taday."

Guglogga's growl was a mix of exasperation, anger, and confusion. "I don't git you Mekky. Always fiddling wif stuffs when ya should be gettin fungus beer with da rest o da boyz and finking bout da next big bash. But I do likes ta see the looks on the 'umie faces when your whatsits and do-zaps do sumtin sides blowin' up me boyz!"

A buzz of static caused everyone on the bridge to cringe and earned the vox unit more physical abuse from the warboss. "Datz great boss, ya won't be dissa…disso…" the Mekboy stumbled over the word, prompting another hearty laugh from Guglogga that was quickly mimicked by the crew of the _Gork's Toofth._ Before he could find the word the vox unit sparked and fell to pieces, cutting the connection.

"BAH! I wuz done talkin to dat git anywayz. SQUISHIE! GET IN HERE SQUISHEE! AN BRING ME SOME FUNGUS BEER! Iz gotz to be all drinked up fur when we gitz to da palace har har har." A trembling human female in the tattered uniform of the Outrider Expedition shuffled onto the bridge, an enormous pewter mug overflowing with ludicrously strong alcohol. The woman was clearly struggling to stand, the fumes from the liquid nearly overwhelming her. The boss snatched up the beer with one hand and slung the woman across his lap with the other.

"HAR HAR HAR now datz a good Squishie. You'z gonna like da Grande Palace, lotz of nice fings for you ta wear har har har." Guglogga did not seem to notice that the young ensign had fainted from fear as he patted her rear with surprising gentleness for an Ork. "OI! Dis my Squishie. I'z looted it fair and square and if anybody breaks it I'LL BASH EM! OK? Now, PREPARE FUR DOCKIN!." The massive battleship thundered towards one of the orbital drydocks which now served to build, maintain, and store the vessels of Guglogga's warband. As the ship crashed into its berth, Guglogga smiled. "Today, is a good day ta be an Ork!" he mused aloud. As serendipity would have it, he had voiced a sentiment that perhaps no other species in the galaxy could echo.


End file.
